The Way This War Was Won
by Tree Peony
Summary: "Arthur Pendragon is a tyrant, true. But you, Merlin. You are something far worse than that. You are the one who brought him to the throne, and the one who continues to keep him there, uncaring of the cost. So, yes. There is something far worse than a tyrannical king: The traitor who gave him power over us." (Modern mob/gang AU with magic. Non-linear storytelling)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Notes: Not so very long ago, I gave an author friend of mine a prompt. It wasn't her cup of tea so she couldn't fill it, but I was assaulted by a veritable movie montage of ideas and so decided to have a go at it myself. I'm adding the prompt here because I think it gives a much better idea of the plot than the title or summary does:**

**_Picture this scenario: Arthur, the ruthless mob boss who rules with an iron first; Gwen, the BAMF action girl who he most frequently takes up with (though Vivian, Elena and Mithian are in the background a la a king's harem); Lance, his right-hand man who secretly lusts after Gwen; Merlin, his left-hand man, who behind his Bambi eyes and wounded kitten face is a merciless killer who will destroy your entire family if you ever dare make a go for Arthur's territory; the rest of the knights, section leaders for Arthur's gang; Morgana, the leader of the only gang that could ever truly rival Arthur's; Mordred, the homeless boy caught in the middle (perhaps sent by Morgana to spy on Arthur)..._**

** The events take place in the fictional city called - you guessed it - Camelot, which is located somewhere in the English-speaking Western world, though the exact country will remain unspecified. It's more fun that way.**

**_Relationships:_ Merlin/Morgana (main pairing, though it will take quite a while for this to take off); Gwen/Arthur; Gwen/Lancelot (whether this or the former pairing is going to be endgame for Gwen is a mystery I will let the plot reveal for itself); Freya/Will; Elena/Mithian; Gwaine/Morgause; Kara/Mordred; various other platonic relationships/friendships **

**But this is not going to be an overtly romantic story. The 'M' rating is mostly for violence - I don't plan on including any explicit sexual content. Merlin and Arthur won't be friends, because I honestly think they'd make better enemies than allies - though I intend to leave their master/servant dynamic going for a while before Merlin chooses Morgana's side instead. Still, there is no 'good' or 'evil' in this fic. I've always thought that the entirety of _Merlin_'s cast would make better villains than heroes anyway, and that's how it's going to be here.  
**

** Not Brit-picked, and my only beta is myself.**

* * *

"My darling little boy… I'm afraid for you. Your powers are... If they go unchecked…"

"Mummy? Why're you crying? Is it 'cos of Will's toy? B-but I thought you said 's okay if I use it for good things. Yeah? Will was so sad after his daddy died… Wanted him to smile at me 'gain. Mummy? Are you mad? Should I go to my room now?"

With a swift hand, Hunith dashes away the tears that threaten to spill from the corners of her eyes. When she looks up at her son again, determination is warring with the fear and sorrow already clouding her gaze. She gathers her 4-year-old into her arms and runs to the bedroom of their tiny flat, a desperate plan already half-formed in her mind.

* * *

"Well, Gaius?"

"It's early days yet, My Lord. But I think the child's coming along quite nicely. His powers are incredibly unique. If harnessed to our benefit, The Knights will be unstoppable under Arthur's command."

"Temperament?"

"Lonely and confused, understandably. But he's young – he'll get over it soon enough. Feisty and a little rebellious, but…" Gaius trails off as his notices, with some alarm, how Uther's eyes darken with an annoyance that could swiftly cede to anger. Anger that will likely spell death for his young charge.

Gaius may have renounced everything he is for the sake of his love for this man, but the overwhelming protectiveness he's always felt towards his cousin has, much to his chagrin, transferred to her offspring during these past few weeks of near-continuous contact with the bright, enthusiastic, optimistic boy. He can't let Hunith's faith in him be shattered quite so quickly or brutally, though he's under no illusions that it won't happen at all.

Not to mention that Merlin's powers, though unrefined, largely uncontrolled, and extremely underdeveloped, are a wonder to behold. And the magical researcher in him itches to test the boy under more extreme circumstances. Perhaps it's high time he were introduced to Arthur…

"But it isn't necessarily a sign that we won't be able to use him, My Lord," he hastens to add before Uther can do something impulsive. "Arthur has never had any tolerance for excessive meekness. He requires a challenge if he is to grow, and he enjoys _making_ people submit to him, rather than having them bend at the knee before he ever proves to them that he's worthy of their service. It will be good practice for him if we have him break Merlin in himself. Of course, he'll need our help initially, but…"

"Arthur's only six," snaps Uther, now eyeing Gaius suspiciously. "How do you know that these qualities will stay with him as he grows older?"

"My Lord, but do you not _wish_ for that? I know you never personally praise Arthur for fear that he'll grow complacent, but I'm aware that you admire those qualities about him. I'm simply suggesting that we train them both side-by-side. Arthur as the leader he will grow up to be, as is his birthright, and Merlin as the left-hand man who will challenge him occasionally, but will always obey a direct order that comes his way."

"Left-hand man…" Uther murmurs thoughtfully. "Because the right is too conspicuous?"

"Yes, My Lord. It's best if the boy and his powers remain a secret to all but a few in our trusted inner circle. If The Sorcerers were to find out…"

"Fine," Uther cuts across him, clearly impatient to leave the sterile, white-walled laboratory that Gaius has called home for the past decade. "We'll do it your way for now."

Gaius draws a deep breath, and steels himself. "But, My Lord, I wish to be granted some small authority over Arthur. I have no doubt that the moment they meet, he will demand Merlin's termination. I beg permission to override that order on the grounds that only you, My Lord, have the right to determine Merlin's fate until such time he can be entrusted completely to Arthur's command."

"Permission granted. I will speak to Arthur about it. Oh, and, Gaius?"

"Yes, My Lord?" Gaius hopes that he successfully conceals the trepidation he feels at the slight smirk flirting with the corners of Uther's thin-lipped mouth.

Uther tilts his head up and regards the man before him down the length of his aristocratic nose. He is aware that Gaius is fond of this…creature. Uther had hoped that the man's absurd devotion to him – he refuses to think of it as _love_, for anything that Gaius is capable of feeling will never be worthy of the sacred term he reserves to describe what he shared with Ygraine – would be sufficient to overcome even familial ties, but it seems unlikely that this will be the case. The compromising of Gaius' loyalties is an irritation, but he will not do anything about it until such time that the creature becomes more trouble than he's worth. Instead of voicing these thoughts, he speaks: a word of caution, so that Gaius will not delude himself into thinking that the miserable brat is in any way safe.

"If Arthur were to kill the child himself, I will not reprimand or punish him, is that clear? Creatures like this are only as useful as their powers are strong and their servitude unwavering, and if he's incapable of defending himself in a mere tussle, how is he to destroy those who seek to harm my heir and our Family? Think of it as a test."

"My Lord…"

"_That was not a request_, Gaius. Do not test my patience; I've indulged you and your pathetic family quite enough."

Gaius bows his head and stays silent, knowing that further protest can only result in violence.


	2. Chapter 2

_There was a time in Gwen's life when hate and love were so beautifully, clearly, distinct from each other. This is the beginning of the end of that time._

* * *

"Well, well, well... And what do we have here, hmm?"

The young woman whips around at the sound of that voice, silky and low and dangerous in the hushed quiet of the expansive, expensively-furnished bedroom.

Her heart pounds madly in her chest, and as sweat slicks her palm she tightens her grip on the weapon concealed behind her back. Any hope of achieving her long-coveted revenge and living to rejoice in the satisfaction of attaining her life's goal leaves her with the swift rush of breath escaping her suddenly too-small lungs. The younger Pendragon may be cocksure and over-confident, but there's no doubt in her mind that his pale, willowy protector is just outside the door, deceptively innocent face attentive as he listens in on them, the cold indifference of his gaze belying his beautifully wide, long-lashed eyes and quicksilver smile. Ready, as always, to deal swift retribution upon anyone who dares to so much as ruffle a hair on his master's perfect golden head.

She can understand the sentiment, she thinks, as she takes in the man before him, meeting his eyes straight-on despite the knowledge that she's looking death in the face. Whatever may or may not be said of Arthur Pendragon, there's no arguing the fact that the man is like a living, breathing – and killing – embodiment of a Greek God. And she can't deny that, though the quickening of her breath, the nervous thump of her heart, and the sweat that beads her brow and slides down her temple can be attributed to the naked terror now holding her rooted to the spot and locked in a staring contest with Arthur, the rush of heat that floods her body as he draws closer, one strong, gun-callused hand reaching for her face, is nothing more or less than the product of desire so strong she has to struggle not to let her knees quake with it.

During these past few months of working for The Knights – and, oh, but the sheer _irony _of that name! – she's often wondered whether Merlin is in love with Arthur. It would certainly explain his behaviour, the utterly mindless devotion to a man who more often than not treats him less like a human being and more like a convenient outlet for his frustrations... She hopes that's not the case, though. While she is, in fact, aware that the younger man, despite his otherwise polite and caring nature, is just as ruthless as Arthur himself, she's developed a certain kinship with Merlin, and had, perhaps, entertained a faint notion that he might champion her cause if she put it to him properly. Now, as she catches a glimpse of him standing just outside the almost-shut door, making no move to stop his master from carrying out her no-doubt painful execution – not that she believes for a moment Arthur would listen to anyone, let alone Merlin, but it's the thought that counts – she knows that that hope had been laughably vain.

A hand on her chin, grip tightening to just this side of painful, snaps her out of her musings – which were, she acknowledges with a slightly choked giggle, rather inappropriate given her current situation.

She blinks rapidly and locks eyes with Arthur as before, focusing on the bright blue of his irises, now rapidly giving way to black as his pupils dilate. His breathing is still completely even, his hands dry, but she notes with some measure of satisfaction the glimmer of interest in his gaze. Slowly, painstakingly slowly, bracing herself against the rustling of her sleeve against the back of her jeans, she brings the gun forward. _Maybe he hasn't noticed it; maybe he thinks I don't know how to use a gun... Doubt I can get in a kill shot, but if I could just throw him off guard with the first one, maybe the second… But what about Merlin?_

"I'm sorry," says a soft voice from the doorway. Her head snaps up to look at Merlin, face wreathed in shadow and long body leaning lightly on the door jamb, posture completely relaxed and eyes glowing a brilliant gold in the darkness of dusk now rapidly pervading the room.

"But I can't let you do that, Gwen. Forgive me."

In the next moment, a sharp, intense pain wrenches through her arm, bringing tears to her eyes and ripping a startled cry from her throat. The gun is forced from her fingers, flying gracefully through the air and into Merlin's waiting hand. Momentarily forgetting Arthur and the hand that has now slid down to cup her throat none-too-gently, Gwen stares, open-mouthed, at the man before her.

"Hmm, yes. Useful little pet, isn't he?" Arthur drawls lazily. Then, as Gwen continues to meet Merlin's mild, apologetic gaze, "Why so shocked, _Guinevere_? Did you really think our Family survived against The Sorcerers this long without a few of _them _on our side?

The grip becomes more of a caress, but somehow the lighter pressure feels more threatening than if he'd put her in a stranglehold. "If you're really _that_ stupid," Arthur continues in as detached a voice as one might use to discuss the weather, "I might have to rethink my decision to spare your life."

The mystery that is Merlin slips from Gwen's mind in an instant. As she returns her undivided attention to Arthur, she can feel her eyes widening despite her best efforts to appear unaffected. _What the _hell?_ Is he going to… Oh, dear God, please, no. _

For all his terrifying reputation, Arthur has never stood for rape; and despite having a veritable king's harem at his disposal, there have never been any rumours of his being an abusive partner. Gwen is well aware of what gang bosses do to women they find have been 'cheating' on them, but she prays that, in this if nothing else, Arthur will be more merciful than others of his ilk.

Without taking his eyes off her, Arthur directs a short order over his shoulder: "Get out. You're done for today. But you'd better not be late again, or I might have to…punish you. Is that clear, _Mer_lin?"

Merlin holsters Gwen's gun and turns to leave, tossing an irreverent, but nonetheless submissive, "Yes,_ My Lord," _over his shoulder. If she weren't so distracted by Arthur's previous words, Gwen might have, once again, pondered their odd relationship – especially as she catches Arthur's fleeting grin at the insolent obeisance. At the moment, she has more pressing matters on her mind.

"Now that _that_ waste of space is out of the way," Arthur says, and his voice is pure sin as he reaches to grasp the loose strands of hair that have escaped her bun with the hand not clutching her neck, "I will issue you a challenge, and you will accept. If you don't, I'll end you on this spot: one sure shot – no fuss, no hesitation. Am I clear?"

Guinevere Leodegrance is no fool, despite the recently-thwarted suicidal mission that indicates otherwise. She recognizes the look on Arthur's face, the one that always appears there when he's about to take on a worthy opponent – be it in a 'friendly' game of darts or a gunfight, and decides that she's tempted fate enough for one day.

"Yes, My Lord."

* * *

**Author's Note: I'm in exam season, so the next chapter might be a while in coming; though no later than the 2nd week of July.**


End file.
